


Any Regrets

by ShenanigansEnsue



Series: Shenanigans and Imagines [11]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShenanigansEnsue/pseuds/ShenanigansEnsue
Summary: Based on anonymous request.Sentence Prompt: “When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!”Can be read as sequel to Run Away With Me





	Any Regrets

          You were in considerable pain.

           Granted, you had worse, but it didn’t negate the steady throbbing coming from your thigh as you rode beside Vasquez.

           The pair of you had been lying low in a small town in Arizona for a little over a month.  It had been the first real break you had since you first decided to run off with the Mexican outlaw some six months prior. You had originally planned on only staying a few days before moving on, but you go comfortable.  

          People in the town assumed you were a married couple and you let them assume. You were able to get a job with a grocer in town and a local rancher was looking for a few more hands.  It was nice, but soon enough the law caught up to you and it was time to run.

          It had been close too.  Vasquez was able to get off unscathed, but one of the deputies tagged you on the leg as you were riding out of town.  It didn’t feel deep, but that could have been the adrenaline.

           You rode on the rest of the day and into the night before reaching a stagecoach outpost.  Normally you would have kept riding, but your leg was steadily growing worse and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep yourself up right. You had to risk it.

           You stayed mounted on your horse as Vasquez went into the saloon.  There really wasn’t much there besides it and a small barn to rest your horses. You took a moment to properly breath in the night air.  It calmed you slightly, but as you began to relax you became even more aware of the warm liquid keeping your skirt plastered to your leg.  Soon enough Vasquez walked out of the saloon, giving you a small nod.  

          You gave a sigh of relief as Vasquez came up beside your horse.  With some effort, you slid off the saddle.  Your feet barely touched the ground before Vasquez scooped you into his arms carried you inside.  You wrapped your arms around his neck relaxing into his hold.  You were going to be alright. The owner didn’t even so much as look up as Vasquez carried you to a small room in the back.

           It was sparsely furnished with one bed placed in the center of the room, a chair in one corner, a night stand beside the bed and a dresser below the window facing towards the road coming into the outpost. You noticed a bottle of whiskey placed on the night stand as well as a small pile of bandages and a pale of water. Vasquez gently placed you on the bed, helping you sit up against the headboard, before lighting one of the lanterns.  

           “You’re going to need to take that off,” he said, indicating to your skirt.

           You nodded an acknowledgment and began to undo the ties.  You winced in pain as you moved your hips up to get them off your legs.  Vasquez was by your side in a second and helped you the rest of the way leaving you in just your blouse and blood soaked petticoat.

           You moved to pull the underskirt up, but Vasquez stopped you.  He silently placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing gently back against the headboard.

           “I’ll be right back.”

           He walked out the door leaving you alone in the quiet.  Your hands clenched and unclenched the fabric at your sides. You weren’t even sure you had lost the sheriff and his deputies and you were sure the saloon owner wouldn’t help you. If his reaction was any indication he wouldn’t squeal so long as you paid; however, if the law did come, you doubt he would protect you either.

           Vasquez walked back in, carrying your saddle bags with him.  He placed them on the ground beside your bed, and shuffled through them until he found a small knife.  He took the chair in the corner and placed it parallel to the bed and facing you.  

           “I hope you’re not attached to this,” he said, indicating the underskirt.

           You shook your head.

           “It’d be a bitch to clean anyway.”

           He gave a small smile before cutting into the fabric and tearing a clean line all the way up past your wound just above your knee.  With just a few more careful incisions, he peeled back the fabric covering your leg causing you to hiss in pain.

           Your stomach turned at the sight.  Your thigh was completely stained with blood, made worse by the gauge that looked almost black in the dim light.  You kept your eyes on the ceiling, unable to even look at it.

           Vasquez didn’t say a word.  You heard the small splashing of water before feeling a warm hand placed gently on your inner thigh to keep you steady while the other cleaned the blood away with careful strokes.  

          You looked back down to him.  His face showing utter concentration on the task at hand. Your body began to relax, focusing on the rough fingers rubbing small circles against your skin. If he was trying to distract you from the small spikes of pain that came whenever he placed pressure on the open wound, it was working surprisingly well.

           He put down the now blood stained cloth and you finally looked back down at your leg.

           It wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought, but the simple fact it was still trickling blood was a little disconcerting.  You looked back as Vasquez expectantly.

           “Stitches?”

           He gave a solemn nod.

           You turned toward the whiskey bottle sitting on the night stand.  Without a word, you opened it and took and large swing, letting the alcohol burn down your throat. Vasquez in turn, pulled out a needle and thread from your bag.

           You handed him the bottle.  He poured some onto the needle before once again placing on hand on your thigh to keep you steady.

           “Ready?”

           You nodded, clenching the bedspread in preparation.

           He pushed the needle in.

          You let out a small cry and jerked away on reflex, but Vasquez kept his grip, pulling the tread through your skin.

           “It’s alright,” he said, caressing your skin in reassuring circles.

           You took calming breaths.  Once again allowing his gentle touch to relax you as you leaned your head back against the headboard.

           He took your silence and permission to continue and pushed the needle in once more. You were able to keep your leg steady this time, and let out only a small whimper.  Vasquez kept up his ministrations and soon it was over. He put the needle and thread away and began bandaging your leg.

           Maybe it was the whiskey finally doing its job, but you didn’t feel anything but a dull ache as he wrapped the bandage.  He continued in complete silence, keeping that concentrated look on his face.  He kept his touch as careful as ever as if he were binding glass instead of flesh, and tied of the bandage with equal care.

           He didn’t pull away.  His fingers absentmindedly tracing your skin as he kept his gaze on your bandaged leg, his eyes fair away from where you were.

            “What is it?” you asked.

           Vasquez didn’t look at you. His brow furrowed in deep thought.  

           “Do you regret coming with me?”

           You stared at him, slightly taken aback by his question, but answered him without hesitation.

           “No. Why would you ask that?”

           He finally met your gaze, shooting you a disbelieving look.

           “You got shot.”

           “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before,” you said simply.

           Vasquez jaw tightened as he pulled his hands away.  

           “That’s the point,” he said getting up from his chair.

            “Vas…”

           He ignored you as he began to put away everything back into the saddles bags.

           “It was a mistake,” he said.  “I shouldn’t have gone back for you.”

           You felt your stomach drop out from under you.  He didn’t mean it.  He couldn’t.

           “Are you saying that cause you actually think that or are you just scared?” you asked, unable to keep some of the bitterness out of your voice.

           “It was a mistake,” he repeated, turning to you. “I should have left you live your life not drag you into mine.”

           “You didn’t drag me anywhere,” you said simply. “I went with you because I wanted to.”

           “I can’t protect you,” he insisted. “I thought I could, but you’re right.  This isn’t the first time you’ve been shot and it’s probably not going to be the last.  You keep riding with me and one of these days that one bullet is going to catch up with you and I can’t be there when it does.”

           He turned away from you once again as a symbolic end of the discussion, but you weren’t giving up without a fight.

           “So, you are just scared then,” you shot back angrily.

           “Of course I am!” he snapped. “I won’t let you die because of me.”

           “Where do you expect me to go?”

           “Anywhere,” he said, letting the desperation in his features creep into his voice. “Some small town where they don’t know your name.  Work, find someone who loves you, get married, build a home, have a life.”

           You shook your head.

           “I can’t do that. I can’t do that, not without you.”

           “I can’t do it at all,” he countered. “We tried, but it didn’t last. It’s never going to last.  Forget about me and find someone else who can give that to you.”

           You couldn’t take it anymore. Carefully, you turned your body so your feet touched the floor.  Using the headboard as support, you stood up, ignoring the pain that shot through your leg. Once you were steady, you limped across the room closing the space between you and Vasquez.

           He didn’t reach out to you.  He simply stood, staring down at you with dark eyes as he tried to keep his face blank. He wasn’t very good at it.  You could still see the love he had for you. You knew that was why he was so desperately trying to push you away.  

           You reached out and gently placed your hand to his cheek as you stepped closer.

           He let you, closing his eyes as he relaxed into your touch.  He leaned down pressing his forehead against yours as you felt his hands on your waist. You knew he meant this as a goodbye.

           “I can’t,” you whispered softly.

           “You have to try.”

            “I can’t,” you insisted. “ **When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then.** I can’t just forget you.”

           Vasquez shook his head, taking your hand cupping his cheek and pulling it away.  You thought he would release his hold and pull away, but he stayed where he stood, keeping your hand in his.

           “I can’t give…”

           “I don’t care!” you cut in, pulling your head away enough to look at him.  “If I wanted that life I wouldn’t have come with you, but I did.”

           Vasquez looked down at you, but kept silent.  You could practically see the cogs turning in his mind, trying to find a way to convince you to let him go.  Despite this, his hand still held yours telling you a simple truth.  He didn’t want to let you go either.

           “Do you love me?” you asked.

           He didn’t answer for a moment, looking at you with so much tenderness, you knew the answer before he even said it.

           “You know I do.”

           You nodded meeting his eyes with just as much earnest conviction. 

          “Then trust I knew what I was getting myself into.”

           Vasquez’s dark eyes bore into you, searching for any hint of doubt.

           You gazed right back doing your best to show just how much you loved him. He was yours and you were his.  That was all that mattered.

           He saw it.  Every bit of it.

           Slowly he leaned down and finally closed the small space between you in a passionate kiss.  His hand dropped yours, moving to your waist pulling your closer to him. You responded in kind, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him just as fiercely. He wasn’t going to leave you.  You felt it in his touches and in the way his groaned against your lips.  And you made sure he knew you felt the same. Eventually the two of you had to pull away for air.

           “I wish I was a better man,” he said breathing hard.  “But I’m selfish.  I’m not letting go of you.”

           “For my sake at least I’m glad you are,” you said smiling.  “I don’t want you to.”

           He chuckled lightly as he let one hand slip to the small of your back, the other sliding gently up and down your spine.

           “You really are loco.”

           “Completely,” you agreed.  “Comes with the territory.”

           He smile lightly before kissing you once again.

           “Te amo,” he said softly.

           “Yo también te amo,” you returned.

           You said the rest of the night in the small outpost before heading out before the sun rose the next morning.  You knew there was a good chance you would never stop running.  You knew there was a chance Vasquez was right, and that bullet was heading for you sooner rather than later. But as you glanced over at the man riding beside you knew your decision was the right one arguments, gun shots and all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you like this, check out my tumblr blog @ https://shenanigans-and-imagines.tumblr.com/
> 
> Request are open
> 
> Please leave a kudos and comment is you are so inclined.


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